


Dreams of Time and Relative Dimension in Space

by dapatty



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-05
Updated: 2009-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardison dreams of being a certain Doctor with a certain companion in risky attire...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams of Time and Relative Dimension in Space

He wore a dark brown pinstripe suit, of course. It really brought out his eyes. Tailored just so, not too pinched at the waist, with a deep blue t-shirt underneath. Matching converse sneakers topped off the whole ensemble. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his innermost jacket pocket, gave it a toss, caught it, and pointed it at the console. His iPod switched on and he indulged in some of the smoothest dancing known to man—at least as far as he was concerned.

“That’s tight,” he said, confirming his awesomeness.

He was just catchin’ his stride when she walked in. Blonde, leggy, and wearing a skintight black cat-burglar ensemble with a long, glistening zipper down the front.

“Those are some smooth moves, slick,” she said with a smile that was half seduction and half mirth.

“You know it, fly girl.” He gave her a cocky grin and extended his hand for a dance.  
“How about we skip all that,” she suggested, her dark eyes holding his as she grasped her zipper pull between two of her fingers. “You could help me with this.” Her other hand slid down her side, very slowly, skimming the tight cloth.

“Just how would you like me to do that?” He asked, hoping she would say something involving his teeth.

“Hardison,” her voice insisted next to his ear, but it didn’t make sense. The blonde, his girl, was standing three feet in front of him looking absolutely sinful—her natural state.

He smiled at her. She winked and disappeared.

“Hardison!”

He jolted awake. He had fallen asleep with his head on the conference table again. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth for a quick drool check.

“I’m awake! What?” he asked, and hoped he wouldn’t need to stand up anytime soon. He looked up guiltily. Parker stood, arms crossed, expectant, and definitely not wearing a whisper-thin catsuit. Hardison wasn’t sure if he was grateful or disappointed.

“My phone is broken,” she said dropping several pieces of what might have once been a cell phone on the table in front of him. “Fix it,” she ordered, like it was a perfectly reasonable request.

“Broken is understatement of the year,” he shifted a little in his seat trying to distract himself from his boner. “Parker, what did you do to it? Poor thing. If you treated it half as nice as you do your lockpicks…”

She sat down in the seat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. “Lockpicks don’t break when you drop them three stories. Or make sad crunching noises.” Her long nimble fingers rearranged and prodded the assorted pieces. “I just want it fixed. It has all my ringtones that I had specifically programmed for everyone on the team and all of my contacts. How will I know when you call me if my phone doesn’t play the theme from ‘Shaft’?”

He could feel her soft skin against his, smell her hair. It wasn’t helping. So not helping. He needed her to either completely stop touching him or touch him in a much more effective way.

“Parker,” he said breathless.

“So, you’ll fix it?” she looked at him. Her eyes full of hope.

“I’ll… try.”

She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight hug, and quickly danced out of the room calling thanks. He groaned in frustration and banged his head against the conference table. A sonic screwdriver would really come in handy right now.

“Way to go there, stud,” he could hear Elliot say in his head.

He banged his head on the conference table again in response.


End file.
